


willowbark and sandalwood

by drizzly_bear



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, Halloween, black cats!, ghosts!, putting the romance in necromancy!, some flavour of a fantasy/medieval au, witchery!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drizzly_bear/pseuds/drizzly_bear
Summary: Take one village girl, her bereaved mother, and the local witch. Make a fire under the Hallowe’en moon. Add willowbark and sandalwood, amaranth and marigold. Listen to what the spirits have to say.





	willowbark and sandalwood

The path is difficult to make out in the growing twilight. Alyssa stumbles on a hidden root, catching herself against the rough bark of an ash tree. She sighs, then pushes gamely on. From what she’d heard, the witch’s hut isn’t far from the village, but the sun had already been low on the horizon when she’d set out.

She crests a stony rise, and the darker pines and cedars of the forest melt away to reveal the snowy white trunks of a birch grove. The day’s last sunbeams set the fall leaves ablaze in a riot of red and gold, and the witch is standing in the center of a clearing, in front of a thatched cottage. 

“Alyssa Greene,” she says as Alyssa draws closer. “What can I help you with?”

The witch wears not a pointed hat, but a homespun tunic and plain green cloak. The light glints off her honey-blond hair, unruly curls haloing her head. She’s young. Beautiful, though her expression is just shy of hostile. A far cry from the wizened crone Alyssa had expected.

The witch’s brusque manner forestalls all small talk. “I need a summoning charm.” Alyssa tries not to let her voice falter over the strange request. “To talk to ghosts. A ghost. My father.”

“And your reason?”

“He’s my father. Do I need a reason?” The witch only looks at her impassively, waiting for her to continue. “Fine,” Alyssa relents. “My mother wants to consult him about my future. And… we miss him.”

The witch nods at her reluctant admission. “Samhain is coming,” she says, squinting at the sky. “And a waning moon. You couldn't have picked a better time.”

The word is unfamiliar. “Samhain?” Alyssa asks.

“All Hallow’s Eve. When the veil between this word and the other is at its thinnest. Best time for a summoning of this sort. You and your mother will have to meet me here on Samhain night.”

Alyssa nods. “Hallowe’en. That’s a few weeks away.”

The witch crosses her arms. “Your father passed over ten years ago. A ritual of this magnitude takes time. Is that a problem for you?”

“No,” Alyssa says hastily. “Not at all. Thank you.”

“There will be a price, of course,” the witch says, still staring steadily at Alyssa. Alyssa notices that her eyes are a rich hazel color. Soft yet piercing. She shivers, and averts her gaze.

“Of course,” Alyssa replies. “What do you need?”

“I won’t be able to complete all the preparations on my own. I’ll require your help. I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Is that all?” Alyssa asks. It didn’t sound like much.

The witch shrugs. “If there’s any supplies you can spare, I’ll take those. Otherwise, no.” She turns to go, then pauses to say, “Sometimes these sorts of rituals have their own price.”

As the witch moves away, Alyssa calls after her, “Wait! I never asked, sorry, but what’s your name?” It felt rude somehow, that she hadn’t asked.

A shadow passes over the witch’s face before she responds. “It’s Emma,” she says quietly. “Thank you for asking. You’re the first who has.” 

Emma walks over the threshold and closes the door gently behind her before Alyssa can respond. Recognising the dismissal, Alyssa turns to go. It had grown dark while they talked, but she could make out the path winding through the trees, lit by the glow of dozens of fireflies.

* * *

It’s a few days before Emma summons Alyssa. At first, Alyssa doesn’t recognise the message when it comes, thinking that the black cat twining around her legs is just a friendly stray. She reaches down to scratch behind his ears, ignoring her mother’s warnings of bad luck. But he nudges against her so insistently that she realises he must want something, and as he heads toward the forest, Alyssa gathers up the bundles she’d put aside for Emma. Alyssa follows him down the winding trail to the witch’s cottage, where Emma is waiting for her, standing among the colorful blooms that form her garden. Emma bends down to greet the cat, murmuring something Alyssa can’t quite make out.

“Good afternoon,” Alyssa says in greeting.

Emma nods at her in reply.

“Is this your cat?” Alyssa asks. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. If he has one, he hasn’t told me yet.” Emma smiles, and as the seriousness falls from her face, Alyssa realises that she and Emma are around the same age.

Alyssa holds out the bundles in her arms. “I brought these for you. Just some food - flour, cured goods - and a few yards of cloth. I know it’s not much, sorry.”

“Oh.” Emma looks almost surprised. Had she not expected Alyssa to actually pay her? “Thank you. Come in so you can put those down.”

She pushes open the door to the cottage. The rafters are hung with bundles of feathers and drying herbs, and a fire crackles in the hearth. Emma gestures for Alyssa to put the packages down on a benchtop cluttered with tools. 

“Sorry about the mess.” Emma’s face is sheepish.

Alyssa touches her arm in reassurance. “It’s alright. I like it.” And she does. Emma’s cottage is homey in a way the Greene household has never been.

They face each other in silence for a few moments, before Alyssa drops her hand from Emma’s worn sleeve. Remembering what she came here for, she asks, “What did you need me to do?”

“Right,” Emma says, smoothing down her tunic and turning to rummage through some drawers. “I need willowbark for the summoning fire.” She produces a silver knife, and after testing it against her thumb, passes it to Alyssa. “There’re plenty of willows growing by the riverside. Try to take it mostly from the branches, and not all from one tree - I don’t want any of them to suffer from overharvesting. There’s a basket by the door, you can fill that.”

Alyssa nods, then hesitates, curiosity prickling. “What’s the willowbark for? I know you said it was for the fire, but what does it do?”

Emma looks at her, eyes piercing amber in the dim light. “You really want to know?”

Alyssa nods.

“You want to know my dark and witchy secrets?” Emma’s voice drips sarcasm.

“Knowledge isn’t something to be afraid of,” Alyssa shrugs.

After a beat, Emma relaxes. “Willow is used to find lost things. When it’s burnt with sandalwood at the waning moon, it has the power to summon lost loved ones. Which is why it’s so serendipitous that Samhain is during the waning moon this year.”

“Willow for finding lost things,” Alyssa repeats, before taking her leave.

-

The sun sets while Alyssa is still at the riverside, her basket full of willowbark and her head in the clouds. A soft mew and the brush of fur against her ankle jolts her back to reality, and a mumbled curse escapes her lips as she realises she’ll have to find her way home in the dark. Alyssa runs one hand down the black cat’s back and he twines his tail around her wrist, then trots off toward the woods. He cocks his head at her expectantly, and like a well-trained pet, Alyssa follows.

Emma is waiting for her at the door to the cottage, her silhouette outlined in firelight. “Thanks for finding her,” she says to the cat before turning to Alyssa. Her hazel eyes are soft with concern.

“Here’s the willowbark,” Alyssa says, offering Emma the basket. “Sorry it took me so long. I got distracted.”

For a moment, Emma looks as if she’s about to say something flippant. But then she takes the basket and merely says, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Alyssa smiles quickly, glancing at the woods behind her. She can’t see the path home in the darkness. “I’ve got to get home. Do you have a lantern I can borrow?”

“I’ll walk you home,” Emma offers after a brief hesitation. “Don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I wasn’t lost,” Alyssa bristles. “Lost in thought, maybe. But not lost.”

Emma’s amused eyes sparkle at her. “Of course.”

She fetches a lantern and leads the way unerringly through the trees, Alyssa in tow. The forest is quiet, so Alyssa asks, “What else will you need me to do?”

“Well,” Emma replies, “There’s not a lot else that needs to be gathered. Most of the components I already have, or they grow in my garden.” She looks at Alyssa, gauging her reaction. “I don’t really _ need _ you to do anything. I can manage it myself if need be.”

“I’m happy to help,” Alyssa says, perhaps a little too forcefully.

Emma gives her a long look, and in returning it, Alyssa trips over a root. “Careful there.” Emma grabs her by the arm before she can fall and sets her gently to rights. “And you don’t owe me anything, Alyssa.”

“I know.” Alyssa loops her arm through Emma’s, and feels Emma stiffen for just a moment, then relax. “I want to, Emma. This… it’s possibly the most interesting thing I’ve ever done.”

“What do you mean by that?” Emma sounds wary.

“I’d like to learn more about what you do. At home, it’s just household chores and gossiping with Shelby and Kaylee and my mother asking when I’m going to get married. I like being out here with you. It’s different. But it’s good.”

“You don’t like your life in the village?”

It’s an astute question, and Alyssa surprises herself in not having to consider her answer. “No. I guess I don’t. I never really thought about it, but you’re right. Shelby’s going to marry Kevin, and Kaylee’s going to marry Nick, and that’s not what I want from life, now that I think about it.”

Softly, Emma says, “There are other options.”

“Like you,” Alyssa realises.

“You don’t want a life like mine,” Emma says.

Unsure of how to respond, Alyssa remains silent, and Emma eventually speaks again. “If I’m honest, part of the reason I asked you to help with the preparations was because I hadn’t had a conversation with another human being for months. Sure, people come to me for charms and remedies, but no one stays to chat with the local witch.” Her voice turns acid on that last word.

Alyssa squeezes her arm, hoping to offer some comfort. “I’m glad you did, Emma. Truly.”

In the lantern light, Emma’s smile looks fragile at the edges. They’ve reached the outskirts of the village, where Emma stops. Alyssa turns to her. “I’m going to hug you, if that’s all right.”

Emma nods, and Alyssa wraps her arms slowly around the other girl. Emma’s arms tentatively creep around Alyssa’s shoulders, and she lets out a little sigh. Alyssa smiles into Emma’s hair, which smells like a mixture of herbs and flowers she can’t recognise.

After a few moments, Alyssa takes a step back, arms still loose around Emma. “Let me know if you want me to come and help you,” she says. “Please.”

Emma nods again. “I will.”

And she does.

* * *

They quickly establish a routine: the black cat comes to find Alyssa, she meets Emma at the cottage, and they work together. Emma doesn’t send Alyssa out alone anymore, but rather keeps Alyssa at her side and instructs her in the various uses for each herb they gather.

On one such day, they’re standing over the benchtop in the cottage, hanging bunches of amaranths up to dry. Alyssa frowns over a knot she can’t get right. Emma leans over to help, and a flurry of events happen all at once; a combination of Emma taking a step and the black cat darting underfoot culminating, somehow, in Emma falling, and Alyssa catching her.

When Alyssa pulls Emma upright, amaranths forgotten, they’re standing so close together that Alyssa can see the tiny golden flecks in Emma’s eyes, and it feels only natural when she closes the distance between them and kisses Emma. It’s the easiest thing she’s ever done.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks when she pulls back, and Alyssa nods, surer than sure. Emma’s eyes search hers, and she must find what she’s looking for because this time, Emma kisses her. 

Despite what Emma says, a life like this might not be so bad.

* * *

When Samhain comes, the waning moon and silvery fog makes it difficult to recognise the trail to Emma’s cottage. By the time Alyssa and her mother reach the clearing, the yew logs in the bonfire are already ablaze. Cloaked and carrying a staff, Emma hands them both a sachet of protective herbs, which Mrs. Greene dons reluctantly before stepping to the edge of the bonfire and proceeding to studiously ignore Emma. Emma shoots Alyssa a small and private smile as she banks the fire, sparks leaping up and glinting golden off her hair, and Alyssa helps her stack willowbark and sandalwood atop the flames, before throwing in handfuls of dried amaranth and marigold. Smoke plumes up - a smoke for calling up spirits.

“Can you start with the potion now?” Emma asks quietly. “You know what to do.”

Alyssa nods and squeezes Emma’s hand in encouragement, before setting to work over the cauldron bubbling at one edge of the firepit.

The waning moon is high overhead, half its face beaming down into the clearing, the other half shrouded in night. Emma turns to face the fog, arms outstretched, and calls, “Daniel Greene! Husband to Veronica and father to Alyssa, I call you.” Her voice ripples outward, powerful and somehow seductive, and Alyssa shivers as she crumbles rosemary into the cauldron.

“I beckon you,” Emma continues, voice growing deeper, richer. The fog starts creeping in toward the clearing, tendrils curling around Emma’s boots, branches in the forest rustling and murmuring. The firelight illuminates everything, wreathing the mist in a warm glow.

The fog glows brighter and swirls around Emma as she finishes, “I summon you!” A wind sweeps through the clearing, sending fallen leaves tumbling, and Alyssa realises that wisps of light are pouring off Emma, sending amber highlights through the mist. Shadows gather behind Emma, dark outlines in bright mist, as she turns her gaze to Alyssa. Emma’s eyes are shining preternaturally, the golden-yellow of witch-hazel. Alyssa stares, captivated, as Emma says, “Is the potion ready?” Hastily, Alyssa tears her eyes away and drops the last few iris petals into the potion, which shimmers, iridescent, as it is completed.

The shadows in the fog are coalescing into figures, who jostle and mutter themselves closer to the bright clearing. “Stay back,” Emma says firmly, planting her staff in the loam. “Daniel Greene,” she says again. “Come forth!”

Alyssa hears her mother gasp as one of the shades steps forward. Emma lets him pass, and as he bends to cup the potion from the cauldron to his mouth, Alyssa sees him. Her father, flickering into form in front of her.

“Alyssa,” he says, cupping her cheek tenderly. “How you’ve grown.” His hand is near-intangible, like a damp breeze, and she blinks back tears as she watches him glide across the clearing to his wife. Her mother reaches out with a shaking hand, which he calmly takes between his own. 

Their conversation is lost in a susurrus of noise as the other shades press forward. Emma grits her teeth and amber magic swirls around her in renewed brightness, but the spirits are growing insistent. “No,” Emma grunts. “This summoning is not for you.”

Her job done, Alyssa goes to Emma and stands by her side, taking her hand; unsure how to help, but wanting to regardless. The shades take a step back as Emma’s magic coils around her, and the charm around Alyssa’s throat begins to shine softly. Emma tightens her grip on Alyssa’s hand, power pulsing through her, and Alyssa grins, exhilarated. “How are you doing that?” Emma asks.

“I’m not doing anything,” Alyssa protests.

“You’re channeling magic,” Emma says.

Alyssa doesn’t feel like she’s doing magic. She just feels warm, and alive, and full of wonder as the air around them turns gold, forcing the restless spirits back another few steps.

They turn around, linking hands again, to see Daniel step back and say, “Now, why did you call me here?”

“Is missing you not reason enough?” Alyssa’s mother replies.

He chuckles, low and sonorous. “We both know you never do anything without a reason.”

Mrs. Greene sighs, and accedes. “Well, Alyssa’s growing up now, and I need to know what to do with her.”

Alyssa and her father frown in tandem. “What to do with her?”

“She can’t live with me forever,” Alyssa’s mother says softly. “She needs to have prospects, a husband, _ something _.”

“How about a trade profession?” Alyssa’s father says, glancing at the two girls wreathed in their golden aura.

“She could work with me,” Emma suggests, initial bravado dying out at the look on Mrs. Greene’s face.

“With you? A witch?” She sounds scandalised.

“And why’s that such a bad idea?” Alyssa says, defying her mother for the first time in her life.

Mrs. Greene looks, if possible, even more shocked. “Are you out of your mind, Alyssa?”

“Why shouldn’t I, mother?” Alyssa snaps. “This is what I want. Give me one good reason not to.”

Alyssa’s mother opens her mouth, then closes it, looking mutinous. 

“I may be dead, but I’m not insane,” Alyssa’s father steps in. “And I don’t think it’s a bad idea. She’s happy, Veronica. If it’s what she wants, then it’s our duty to support her.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Alyssa beams.

Mrs. Greene glances from her daughter to her husband and back again, faced with opposition on all sides. “I… suppose. Very well.”

Emma lets go of Alyssa’s hand and steps forward. “Then, Mr. and Mrs. Greene, I would like to formally make an offer of apprenticeship. I offer full room and board, and all my knowledge of healing and arcana. In return, Alyssa Greene will learn from me, and work by my side. When she is ready, I would offer her a place working by my side. Are the terms agreeable?”

“They are,” Alyssa’s father says.

“They are,” Alyssa says.

They all stare at Mrs. Greene, whose face is inscrutable. “They are.”

“It is done,” Emma manages before Alyssa hugs her hard enough to make her ribs creak. 

Alyssa presses a kiss to Emma’s cheek, whispering, “Thank you.”

The spirits are pressing in against the circle of light again, and dazedly, Emma says, “Thank you, sir, but I think you’re going to have to go now.”

Alyssa’s father nods. “Be well, all of you,” he says, before Emma tosses asphodel and juniper in the fire, and dark smoke covers the clearing, and he’s gone.

Golden glow fading and spirits banished, the silver Samhain moon looks down on three women and one black cat, who set out to pass All Hallows the only way they know how; with guising and feasting, humanity united against the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> i have to admit that i really struggled writing this, so i hope it survived the multiple rewritings i put it through. i almost didn't post it but then i was reminded that it doesn't have to be perfect to be (hopefully) good!  
this is my entry for the prom discord's halloween fic contest, so go check out some of the other lovely fics by our talented writers and have a happy halloween!


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